


Sileni

by Masked_Man_2



Category: The Oracle Trilogy - Catherine Fisher
Genre: Autism, Family, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, No Romance, Pre-Oracle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masked_Man_2/pseuds/Masked_Man_2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>4-year old Sileni escapes into the tombs to avoid being captured by Argelin's soldiers. Lost and alone, she finds hope in dark places when she is saved by an unexpected source, and finally finds the family she has always yearned for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She runs with sun and stars

In the fading light of the day, the Port teemed with life. At the waterfront, sweating, tar-stained sailors loaded and unloaded the ships that bobbed cheerfully on the waves. Buxom fishwives haggled and screamed, merchants hawked, and thieves and pickpockets slipped silently through the chaos, gloating over their stolen loot. Litters and wagons careened through the narrow, dirty streets, swerving to avoid the crowds of playing children and the housewives with their washing. Armored soldiers patrolled the area, eyes alert for any suspicious activity.

 

There was one, however, who walked unseen through the Port, oblivious to everything around her. This little girl, scarcely four years old, tottered between the rotting barrels and stinking refuse heaps of the alleys with the ease of long practice. One hand groped at everything she passed, as though she was blind, and the other she flapped in front of her eyes. Up and down, like a dolphin. Side to side, like a fish.

 

“Sileni,” she murmured, her voice a soft treble. “Sileni, Inelis, Inelis, Sileni.” Forwards and backwards, her name was like a song, but that thought would never cross her mind. She didn’t have the words. She didn’t know there were the words.

 

Sileni emerged from the alley and stood at its mouth, motionless apart from the jerking of her arms. Eyes wide with wonder, she looked up, staring unblinkingly into the setting sun. Its dying rays made the whole Port glow red as blood, and the dark brushstrokes of night were appearing at the edge of the sky.

 

“Sun,” Sileni whispered, raising one hand as if to cup the burning orb. “Red sun, dead sun.”

 

X X X 

 

Aziya pulled the last tunic off the clothesline and shook it out with a brisk snap. Placing it in the basket balanced on her hip, the young woman turned, her dark eyes scanning the night-washed streets. Children were trudging to their homes, following the voices of their exasperated mothers. Aziya smiled. Thank the God that her own son was already inside, fast asleep after a day spent helping the sailors at the docks. No worry for her tonight.

 

One child, however, did not follow any voice, did not move. This tiny shadow stood impassively at the mouth of an alley, with a hand raised high in the air. 

 

That child shouldn’t be over there, Aziya thought. It’s too dangerous! Where’s its mother to tell it to leave that place?

 

Concerned, Aziya adjusted the basket on her hip, tossed her brown hair off her shoulders, and walked over to the child. “What are you doing, sweeting?” she called softly; she didn’t want to scare it. “Where’s your mama?”

 

The child didn’t respond, and Aziya moved a bit closer. It was a girl, she saw, the tiniest girl she’d ever seen. Her long, curling hair tumbled freely down her back, a dark copper color that glowed like fire. Her skin was a smooth olive, and her delicate little face was turned up toward the sun, beautiful and remote. Her eyes were closed, and she was hugging herself, rocking back and forth and humming.

 

“What are you doing, honey?” Aziya repeated. This time, the girl turned toward the woman’s voice, though her eyes remained closed. “That’s it,” she said encouragingly.

“Sileni,” the girl told her earnestly.

Aziya laughed lightly. “Is that your name?” she asked. “Sileni? Where is your mama, Sileni?”

“Where is your mama?” she repeated. 

“Yes, that’s what I asked. Where is she?”

“Where is she?”

Aziya sighed. This was getting her nowhere. Did the girl not understand what she was asking? “Look, honey, it’s dangerous out here at night. How about you tell me where you live, and I’ll see you home? Would you like that?”

“Sileni,” the girl said again.

Aziya ran a hand through her hair in exasperation. “Honey, for the last time, it’s dangerous out here! Where’s your mother?”

“Red sun.”

“For the love of the God!” Aziya blew out a breath in an angry huff. What was wrong with this girl? Was she deaf? Or was she just stupid?

“Bas-ket,” Sileni said suddenly.

“What?”

The girl pointed. “Bas-ket.”

Aziya glanced at her basket, then back at Sileni. “Yes. How did you….” The young woman trailed off when she realized that the strange little girl had opened her eyes.

 

They were a clear, crystalline blue, the palest blue Aziya had ever seen. Those eyes looked at her blankly, with a riveting innocence. Aziya had to look away. The girl’s stare was too disconcerting, too empty. It made her shiver.

 

That’s not natural, she thought. No one has eyes like that! There is something seriously off about this girl….

 

When she looked back, though, Sileni was nowhere to be seen. “Sileni?” she called, worry tingeing her voice. “Where are you?”

 

X X X 

 

Sileni walked out toward the street. The voice of the strange woman faded into the background until it was nothing more than the faint whine of a bothersome insect. She covered her ears absently as she lay down in the middle of the street.

 

The stars were starting to come out over the Port: little twinkling lights that watched the hot world below from their icy, faraway refuges in the sky. They blinked as she watched. Awed, she raised a hand to them, letting her fingers drift lazily across their bright faces, tracing patterns in the velvet sky.

 

At the opposite end of the street, a wagon lurched around the corner, sending oranges and figs flying in all directions. the driver, burly, bearded man, snapped the reins and shouted at his horses to go faster. Sileni lay as if asleep, completely ignoring the oncoming cart.

 

“What the….” The driver squinted at what looked like a bundle of clothes in the road. When it moved, he jumped, swearing roundly. “Whoa!” he shouted, yanking at the reins. “Whoa!”

 

The lather-flecked horses skidded to a halt, stopping just above Sileni. She stared at them in wonder, not moving from where she lay. Still cursing, the wagoneer leaped off his seat, grabbed her by the elbow, and hauled her up roughly. 

 

“You little wretch!” he snarled. “What the hell were you doing, blocking the road like that?! You could’ve gotten yourself killed! I oughta report you, you smarmy whelp!”

 

Sileni stared uncomprehendingly at the big man. His words sounded jumbled, and she couldn’t understand, but she knew he was gripping her tight, too tight, and she squirmed, desperate to escape his crushing hold.

 

“What’s the trouble here?” a new voice called. A group of soldiers walked over to Sileni and the wagoneer, and their leader crossed his arms, waiting for an answer.

“Right good you men are here,” the wagoneer snapped. “This blasted girl was just lying right in the middle of the road. I damn near ran her over.”

“Is that so?” The leader looked down at Sileni. “What were you doing, hm? Where’s your mama to tell you not to do crazy things like that?”

“Hrmm….” Agitated, Sileni began flapping her free arm, her head going off to one side. 

“Are you deaf, child? Mute?” The soldier put his face close to hers. “Are you mad, maybe-”

“Aieee!” she screamed. The man’s face was too close, and he was choking her. She couldn’t bear it, and she punched him in the mouth before anyone could stop her.

“Argh!” The soldier drew back sharply, hands flying to his mouth. “Thrice-accursed bitch!”

“Are you alright, sir?” one of the other men asked.

The leader’s eyes blazed. “Do I look alright, man? That bitch knocked out two of my teeth!” And, indeed, two teeth lay in the dust at the man’s feet, one of them gleaming gold.

“She got your gold one,” the soldier murmured. “Nice shot, I have to say.”

“She struck an officer, fool!” the leader spat. “Take her in!”

 

The wagoneer tightened his grip, and the soldiers began moving in, surrounding the girl. Sileni stared at them wildly; their faces gave nothing away, but she knew they were coming for her, and they would grab her, and hit her, and make her hurt….

 

With a suddenness that took everyone by surprise, Sileni turned and bit the wagoneer’s meaty arm. It tasted awful, like dirt, sweat, horses, and fruit, but she didn’t let go until the man started swearing.

 

“Beastly thing!” Abruptly, he released her, making her gasp. She didn’t waste a second; she ran away from the men as fast as she could, arms pumping, legs flying. the enraged wagoneer tried to grab her, but she darted away from him. The soldiers chased her, and the wagoneer, puce-faced, came puffing behind them, but Sileni shot into the dark maze of alleys. Sliding through a small crack in a wall, she left her pursuers behind.

 

Sileni ran blindly, with no thought to where she was going. Time lost all meaning as she ran, faster and faster, until the world was a blur and the Port was far in the distance. Ahead of her, the City of the Dead loomed tall and forbidding, its black facade hiding it amongst the shadows of the night.

 

Sileni ran through the marble gates and shot right past the two guards, who stared after her retreating form in shock. She raced among workshops and buildings, and finally entered a large building that still glowed with light. The corridors of this place were dimly lit, but the girl had no trouble finding her way through them. She was fueled by pure instinct, some animal need to get as fay away from those men as she could….

 

Bursting out of one of the hallways, she found herself in a cavernous room, filled with rows of desks. About half of them were occupied by bent-backed, writing men, but Sileni ran past them, too, ignoring their shouts. They couldn’t catch her, these soft men. She’d leave them behind, just as she’d left the others.

 

When she left the scribal hall, she kept running through interminable rooms and corridors, and she faintly realized that she seemed to be going down. the halls were getting darker, and warm, stagnant air began to circulate at her feet. 

 

Suddenly, something clanged behind her, and the whole world was plunged into blackness. A scream ripped from her throat, but she quickly hushed. The silence was total down here, and Sileni didn’t like it. It was too close, too alien. Softly, she babbled to herself as she walked, trying to break the oppressive quiet.

 

There was something distinctly sinister about this place. Shadows flitted in and out of her vision, and strange, hollow whispers of sound echoed through the corridors, snaking their way through the silence and shattering it, only to fade away again at once. There was a strange smell down here, too, sickly sweet, like opium and natron. Dusty, like centuries-old cloth.

 

“Dead, dead, dead mummy. Sweet mummy, fat mummy, that mummy. Dead, dead, dead.” Sileni spoke faster as she began to run, speeding up until she was sprinting, and shouting at the top of her lungs. These dark, dead rooms had no end; where was the end? She couldn’t find it, she couldn’t keep this up….

Exhausted from the strength of her terror, Sileni collapsed onto the ground, the sound of her booming heart drowning out the whispers of the dead, which faded into silence as she eyes fell shut.


	2. He Sees What He Did Not Expect To See

After the loud bustle of the City of the Dead, the silence of the tombs was a welcome respite. The scurrying, put-upon forms of the men and women above had deserted their chaotic halls, returning hot and weary to their homes and barracks. Free until the next dawn.

Only one figure remained in the quiet dark: a shadow, loping through the black tunnels below the ziggurat. One narrow white hand brushed the time-worn walls as he moved. His steps were silent but for the whispering shuffle of his dragging right leg. His colorless eyes gleamed incongruously, alert and wary. 

Kreon paused for a moment, letting the faint hisses of the spirits of the dead flow around him. They were more active than normal, greeting him with a joy that only shades could muster upon sighting their master...their Shadow. The dark twin of the bright God, the ruler of death and night and the lost souls that were shunned from the garden of the Rain Queen. Those above spoke of the Shadow with fear, revulsion…. “The Shadow walks at night,” they said. “He roams the tombs, restless, longing for more dead souls to keep him company.”

“He longs for more dead company, does he?” Kreon uttered a soft, harsh laugh. “Terrifying, I’m sure.” The shades chittered, as if in agreement. Really, it wasn’t as if the Shadow actually sought to kill people; the very notion was ridiculous. He was merely isolated...a bit dark and intimidating...perhaps. And for that, he was hated. Typical. Sad, dreadfully sad, but typical nonetheless.

The spirits whispered warningly; maybe they could sense Kreon’s bitter thoughts. Doubtful, he thought, recommencing his prowl. They never have before. They hadn’t, either. Normally, they went silent shortly after he arrived in the tombs. Tonight, though, they continued to speak, growing more and more agitated as he moved deeper into his kingdom. The very air down here seemed charged, as if with some distant trepidation. The mummies, the shades, the bones, the walls themselves...they spoke of some hidden danger, some vast, pending doom….

Kreon limped quickly into a side tunnel, stopping abruptly when sounds reached his keen ears. These were not the typical rustles and cracks of the tombs. No, these sounds were deliberate, foreign...like footsteps...or voices….

The Shadow only hesitated for a moment before stalking towards the sounds, face hard and set. Someone was here, in his kingdom, intruding. Someone who needed to get out.

 

X X X 

 

Sileni felt as rested as if she had been sleeping for hours when she finally opened her eyes. The chamber she had collapsed in was as dark as it had been before, but the darkness no longer felt quite so oppressive. On the contrary, it seemed to wrap around her like a soft, silky blanket, hiding her. Protecting her. 

She wasn’t quite sure how, but she knew she was safe. The bad men wouldn’t dare to follow to this place, with its mummies and ghosts and soul-sucking darkness. They would whimper and cry and flee, like scared young children, from that darkness.

Sileni wasn’t scared. She liked the dark and the night, sought solace in the peace of blackness and stars and moon. Blackness was a cloak for her, and stars twinkled and glowed like bright, chipper faces. The moon was powerful, timeless. Still, yet ever-changing. A gentle, silent guide. A bright lord of shadow. 

The night was a shroud that no day could ever be. It let her be free, away from the dark eyes of all the big men and women. They were sinister, those eyes: black and brown like old, dried bones. Those eyes hid Death; she was sure of it. Not like her own. Her own eyes were made of water and sky: cool, sweet water and vast, open sky, both loving and distant to all.

 

X X X 

 

Danger. Intruder. The frantic whispers of the dead grew louder, creating an echoing cacophony within the tunnels. Get out. Get her out. Stop her. The voices were a persistent buzz in the back of Kreon’s head, an ache in his bones. The sensation only grew stronger as he walked on, matching the increased clamor of the frightened shades. Small thing. Weak thing. Living thing. When he found the intruder, he would make her pay for disturbing the dead, who wished only for peace. Prey for the Shadow.

 

X X X 

Sileni was, quite literally, walking in circles. She moved with soft-toed steps, carefully feeling her way along the grooves she had worn into the dust on the ground. Her circle’s radius was about as wide as she was tall, but she hadn’t yet run into any walls. That, coupled with the fact that the sounds of her shuffles drew out long breaths until they sighed ominously into silence, led her to decide that this chamber was very, very large. So large that the shadows in the lost corners would devour her in their vastness.

“No light,” she whispered. Then, liking the way her high voice whistled and skittered into the void, she shouted, “No light! Hungry shadows!”

The resulting echo was so loud that Sileni gasped from shock. Frightened by the booming roar that rang out through the chamber, she dropped into a crouch, her hands over her ears, and started humming loudly in hopes of drowning out the bestial vociferation. But the roar only crescendoed, and in the midst of that rush and her frenzied cries, she began to perceive a different sound, a strange, rustling sound. It was a voice, she realized, a faint murmur that whispered insidiously in some lost, sibilant tongue that made an odd music like the rattle of bones and wind. Entranced, the little girl’s shouts died in her throat, and she cautiously took her hands away from her ears, straining to listen.

“You have come here,” the voice hissed suddenly, “to this kingdom where all must pay homage to darkness...to shadow...to Death….” The voice expanded around her, a desiccated, timeless rasp that knew nothing of light or joy. Sileni’s hands flew to her ears again at the word Death, and she screamed. Death was a bad word, a forbidden word, she couldn’t hear it, she wouldn’t….

 

X X X 

 

Kreon’s anger brought the Shadow unbidden; the dark twin of the God moved into his mind without so much as a hint of warning. It was the Shadow that spoke, his cold, deadly voice bringing an icy fever to his hapless vessel. Kreon felt, rather than saw, the garb of the lord of the dead on his body as the Shadow overtook his form. Control was wrested from him, and he was trapped inside himself as the Shadow stalked mercilessly into the round chamber.

The Shadow’s vision was tinged with red, so much clearer than his own. It was as though the room was bathed in a volcanic glow. He could see every hieroglyph that was cut into the walls, every crumbling painting, every crack. The chamber was bare; it might have been untouched for millennia, but for the new circular track in the dust...and the tiny child huddled at the center.

 

X X X 

 

The phantom appeared out of nowhere, bathed in a sickly, pale glow, like that of a waning moon. It stood tall, tall as the sky, and thin as a skeleton, clothed in a black robe edged with silver and a black jackal mask with gleaming red eyes. A crown of nightshade and cobweb rested atop its head, and it carried a great black staff with a sharp bone hook on the end.

Sileni quaked with terror as the ghastly apparition drew closer. She did not fear darkness, no, but she feared the malicious beasts of the night, beasts that hissed and stalked and reeked of evil and Death. This creature carried with it that same awful scent: of natron and poppies, strange, sinister incenses, of dust and stone and the dark places of the earth. It was a monster born of the depths of Hell, and it was coming straight at her.

Slowly, so very slowly, it lowered its staff so the tip of the hook was pointing at her wildly beating heart. Sileni stared at the dully gleaming point with a sort of sick fascination; it would surely kill her, but she could not look away. 

“Shiny,” she whispered, her hands flapping and twisting before her. “Point. Shiny, stabbing point.”

The shadow watched coldly as she babbled. Suddenly, though, the air about it shimmered, and it was hidden from sight. Her curiosity piqued, Sileni fell silent and carefully reached out a hand toward the place where the figure had just stood.

The man who stood before her now seemed a pallid copy, a reflection of the fearsome spirit in black. The light surrounding him was wan, faint, but she could still see him easily. He was as tall and thin as the shadow had been, but he stood unsteadily, favoring his left leg. Everything about him was white, except for his dirty gray tunic and pink eyes. Pale, she saw: like her own. Perhaps this white man was the moon...yes, surely he was: that mild, gentle lord that had guided her all her life. Surely.

 

X X X 

 

The Shadow withdrew abruptly when the girl spoke, leaving Kreon weak and faint. His skin felt too tight, and ice crawled through his veins while fire scorched his skin. Every part of his body ached; he wanted nothing more than to pass out. The sight of the child, however, brought him out of his daze as she stood up straight, her hands weaving back and forth.

“Moon,” she murmured in an odd, inflectionless treble voice. “Dark moon, red moon, white moon. Pretty moon.”

Kreon frowned, trying to focus his burning eyes on the blurred image in front of him. A tiny child; the top of her head was barely level with his knees. Mahogany hair, olive skin. Her eyes, what little he could see of them, were not dark like those of the people above, but light and clear...blue, perhaps. Unusual...though not as strange as his own.

The girl appeared to be studying him just as intently; her luminous eyes were fixed on his hands, and her head was cocked to one side. He wondered briefly what she was thinking. What had brought her down here? Where had she come from? Who was she?

“What’s your name?” Kreon asked gently. Slowly, he knelt, so his eyes were almost level with hers. “What’s your name, little girl?”  
The child tilted her head a fraction more. “Inelis,” she replied in a singsong voice.  
“Inelis?” When she gave no response, he put a bony hand on her shoulder. “Is that your name? Inel-”  
“Ahhh!” Without warning, the girl jerked back, her hands flying to her ears.  
Kreon winced at the jarring scream. “What-”  
She flung herself to the ground, apparently enraged. “NONONONONONONO!”  
Her shouts sent bolts of pain shooting through his head, and he drew his own hands to his ears in a vain attempt to muffle the sound. “Please,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “Stop screaming, just stop, please-”  
“AIEEE!!!”  
“ENOUGH!” he roared, his patience snapping.  
The girl immediately fell silent, staring at him with wide, wary eyes, trembling hands covering her mouth. A small whimper escaped her.  
Kreon pressed spindly fingers to his temples, willing his head to stop pounding. “All right,” he murmured. “All right; I’m sorry. Let’s try this again.” He exhaled heavily. “What’s your name?”  
The girl bit her lip. “What’s your name?”  
“No, your name.”  
“Your name.”  
If she continued in this vein, he would be sorely tempted to strike the child...and he didn’t think he’d be ashamed to do it, either. This isn’t working, he thought grimly.  
“Your name, Inelis,” she piped up. “Hah-ri, child. No, Sileni. I-ei.”

 

X X X 

 

The girl’s latest babbling made as little sense as the first. It sounded as if she was repeating what some adult might have said to her, just as she had repeated his words back to him. Oddly enough, her inflection changed when she repeated those words: very different from her usual monotone or singsong tones.

This was, without doubt, a very odd being that had ventured into his kingdom. There was something...wrong with the way she spoke, the way she acted. He could never profess to having considerable amounts of experience with children, but….

“Hi-nehm,” she said suddenly, taking his hand. “Hi-nehm, Sileni.”

Why was she speaking the language of the God? Where had she learned it? And she kept repeating that odd word, Sileni….

“Sileni....” he muttered thoughtfully. Then, his eyes widened as the letters seemed to shift in his mind. Sileni reversed became Inelis. And that isn’t her name, so it must be…. “Sileni? That’s your name? Yes?”  
The girl hugged herself and smiled. “Sileni.”  
He breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s sorted, then.”  
“Sileni,” she repeated, pointing at herself. Then she pointed at him. “Moon.”  
Kreon rolled his eyes slightly, but his lips quirked up into small half-smile. “No, my name isn’t Moon. It’s Kreon.”  
“Moon,” Sileni insisted.  
“Fine,” he retorted. “As you like it.” Carefully, he put his hands on her shoulders. “What are you doing here, Sileni? This isn’t a safe place for children.”  
Sileni cocked her head to one side again; then, she reached out and touched his hair. “White.”  
Kreon glanced at her hand briefly. “Yes. I know. What-”  
Her hand moved to his face. “White,” she said again, slapping his cheek lightly.  
He took a deep, measured breath. “Please stop touching me.”  
Sileni, though, had other ideas. With a high little giggle, she jabbed her fingers right into his eyes.  
“Argh!” Kreon’s hands flew to his face. “Why the Hell would you-”  
“Pink.”

 

X X X 

 

The girl was fast becoming a problem. He had led her by the hand to the upper world, her touch cruelly icy on his fever-hot skin. She had kept up a constant stream of nonsensical chatter, and now, as they finally stood before the stand of olive trees outside the ziggurat, she was refusing to move. 

“Well?” he asked, cocking one white eyebrow at her. “Come on. We need to find your family.”  
Sileni huddled close to his body, pulling his hand over to rest on her heart. “Moon.”  
Kreon sighed heavily, pushing his tangled hair back from his forehead with his free hand. “No,” he said firmly. “I’m taking you to the City, and we’re going to find your family.”  
“Hot moon,” she replied, and proceeded to hum softly, a high, mournful croon.  
“You…” he growled through gritted teeth, “are...insufferable.”  
Sileni smiled at him charmingly, keeping a tight grip on his hand.  
He sighed again and knelt, so he could meet her eyes. “Look. I don’t want to get angry at you. All I want to know is where you came from so I can take you back. Understand?”  
“Med-wah.”  
“I’ll take that as a yes. So….” Gently, he pulled his hand from her grasp. “I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to tell me yes or no. All right?”  
Sileni flapped her hands excitedly, her head going off to one side. “Moon! Med-wah!”  
“Right. Hey, look at me.” The girl was staring resolutely at the dark night sky. Carefully, he touched her hand. “Look at me.”  
“Ai!” She drew her hand back with a gasp, as if she had been burned, and shook it out frantically, rocking back and forth.  
“No.” Kreon reached forward and grabbed both of Sileni’s hands in an effort to still her frenetic movements. “No. I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

 

X X X 

 

Try as he might (though perhaps he wasn’t trying as hard as he could have), Kreon simply could not understand the bipolarity of the girl’s behavior. She had been excitable and chipper mere moments ago...and now, a light touch had reduced her to a wailing wreck. What had happened? She had been so...willing to touch him earlier...and she had let him return the favor...somewhat. So where had this sudden aversion come from?

Then again...he had seen such fear before...he knew exactly where it came from, what it could do to a young, impressionable mind…. She’s a different child...I was a different child...her fate wouldn’t have been any better than mine…. No...years, decades, centuries pass, and men don’t change…. The thoughts ran unfiltered through his mind, their bitterness stinging him. No, men didn’t change. If they saw Sileni as odd, alien (as they called me alien: etera, fetiu, fulni, haltu, calu...monster, he couldn’t help but think), they would have treated her the same way they had treated...still treated...him. The women would stare, judgemental and disapproving; they would gossip and titter and scorn and hate. The men would grab, punch, kick, slap, throw, shout...strip...penetrate….

NO! He wouldn’t let himself remember that, wouldn’t let himself consider the possibility of Sileni being violated in such a way at such a young age...no matter how true it had been and was…. NO. Stop. Stop right there. Enough about himself; none of that mattered anymore. Sileni. Focus on Sileni. 

As appalling as the idea was, it made sense...too much sense. She was willing to touch him first because she didn’t know him. She cowered when he shouted because she hated being shouted at. She flinched from him now because he had touched her suddenly...which meant that she was expecting to hit. Na pari i eychi. 

It explained so much: her terror, her habit of withdrawing into herself at the slightest sign of a threat...even her strange behavior. Either she’d had no one to teach her how to behave and interact properly, or she had been...damaged...somehow. If that was the case...could he, with any semblance of good conscience, take her back? Could he really condemn a child to such a terrible fate? 

 

X X X 

 

By the God, but he had let his thoughts run away with him. His grip on Sileni’s wrists had tightened without his notice, holding her fast to him. She tried valiantly to twist away from him, gasping and sobbing, but he abruptly shook off his shock and loosened his bruising hold. Little good that will do now, vlakas. Gritting his teeth, he ignored the voice of self-reproof and tried to soothe the girl, gently massaging her tiny pulse points and hushing her. 

“Hah-ri,” he whispered, hoping the apparently-familiar cadences of the God’s tongue would pacify the child. “Hah-ri, Sileni. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to hold you like this until you calm down, and then I’ll let you go. All right? Hush, now….” Softly, he continued in that vein, murmuring soft nothings in her ear in hopes of getting her to come back to him.  
Sileni was crying still, but she had stopped struggling, cocking her head to listen to him. “Hah-ri, Sileni,” she repeated, matching his tone again. Then, suddenly, she turned her wide-eyed gaze to her hands, which were enveloped in Kreon’s larger, skeletal ones. “Hi-nehm,” she said, a small smile forming on her dark face.  
“Yes,” he agreed, breathing out a shaky sigh of relief. “Hi-nehm.”

 

X X X 

 

The moon-lord was strange, very strange. Sileni had always imagined him to be tall and strong and dark, with a deep, resonant voice and pale, gleaming eyes like her own. He had a smile as gentle and white as the half moon, and wore a resplendent robe of gold and shadowy azure silk. He was powerful, mysterious, loving...beautiful….

... He was nothing like her vision. He was not dark, robust, or tender. He was not cheerful or richly dressed; he had no smile that she could see. No, this moon-lord was hot and damp like midday air, hard and white like marble, distant and remote like the moon’s dark side….

His skin burned her; his rough touch frightened her. His hands were hard and tough, oddly cool, like a snake’s belly...and she had always hated snakes. She almost wanted to scream again, but he had roared at her the last time she’d done that...not that men hadn’t done that to her before….

But...he led her so carefully, and he spoke her language, her special, lyrical language! Hah-ri, Sileni, he had said. Hi-nehm. How many times had she heard the moon’s voice (her moon, not the white man who held her now) speak those very words?... So many times, so very, very many times. And now, the white man spoke the words with the ease of eternal practice...yes, he had to be a moon-lord. Perhaps not hers, but he was; there was no doubt.

That thought acted like a soothing balm to her racing heart, and she felt, distantly, the slowing of the wild beating in her chest. She held tightly to the white man’s hands, and he gripped them back with infinite gentleness. 

“Sane,” he said, in his dry, whispery voice. “You’re alright, falatu. Just breathe, aputuke? I won’t ask you anything.”

His voice was like music, she thought, feeling her fear ebb like mist in the sunlight. With a beaming smile, she threw her arms around his hard, corded throat, resting her head against his bony shoulder with a contented sigh.

She could feel him freeze, but she didn’t care. She just held him, feeling the might’s warm darkness wrap them in a secluded embrace. She had never felt more safe, more protected; she could have stayed like this forever….

It seemed an eternity before he stirred. Putting his arms around her back cautiously, he stood slowly and began to walk back the way they had come. His colorless, pink-tinged eyes were distant and distracted, and he moved silently, like a spirit carrying her to the Rain Queen’s garden (which her moon-lord had said was the most beautiful place in existence). The shuffling, deliberate rhythm of his limp rocked her gently, and her eyes, growing pleasantly heavy, fell closed as sleep took her once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief note on languages: For no particular reason, I decided to make Ancient Egyptian the language of the God. Sileni speaks this language, as does Kreon, but he also speaks Etruscan (the language of the Shadow, also for no particular reason), and Greek (the common language of the Two Lands, also for no particular reason). These translations took a **** long time to find, and I’m hoping they’re accurate. With that in mind…. 
> 
> Translation time! 
> 
> Hah-ri: Egyptian for ‘quiet’  
> I-ei: Egyptian for ‘come’  
> Hi-nehm: Egyptian for ‘join’  
> Med-wah: Egyptian for ‘speak’  
> Etera: Etruscan for ‘slave’ or ‘foreigner’  
> Fetiu: Etruscan for ‘cave dweller’  
> Fulni: Etruscan for ‘one who withers/putrefies’  
> Haltu: Etruscan for ‘lame’  
> Calu: Etruscan for ‘infernal demon’  
> Na pari i eychi: Greek for ‘damn it’   
> Vlakas: Greek for ‘stupid’ or ‘idiot’  
> Falatu: Etruscan for ‘sky’  
> Sane: Etruscan for ‘well’  
> Aputuke: Etruscan for ‘agreed’ or ‘pledged’
> 
> So...the ‘Moon-Lord’ that Sileni sees (the tall, dark, and strong one) is the God. He sees something unique in her, and as he is essentially omnipotent, he can observe the difficulties she has and chose to help her, teaching her his language and demonstrating some proper behavior. Of course, Kreon doesn’t know this yet, because Sileni can’t tell him.
> 
> About the Moon: The moon is a treasure trove of legends. It often is said to symbolize mystery, love, beauty, change, and rebirth. It represents both life and death, and can be either gentle or destructive. The ancient Greeks believed that it was the home of the dead. Ancient Egyptians associated it with renewal, the bull, female fertility, and growth of all things animal, plant, and mineral. They thought it to be the ruler of the night, less powerful than the never-changing Sun.
> 
> About snakes: Snakes are also symbolic in many ways. Now, they tend to represent lies and deception, but to the Greeks, they were symbols of immortality, rejuvenation, healing, and immense power. The Egyptians also saw them as protectors, but they contrasted that idea with one of the creatures’ malevolence; they were evil beings that needed to be mutilated and destroyed lest they harm the dead.

**Author's Note:**

> To be frank, I am no specialist on childhood autism, and I apologize if Sileni's behaviour does not seem to mirror that of an autistic child. If anyone who is more knowledgeable on the subject than I wishes to offer criticism or advice, I am all ears.


End file.
